Interlude Version 1
by FemmeFerret
Summary: This was the original Interlude to my story A Mile of Revelations. Please enjoy!


This was the first Interlude to A Mile of Revelations, which I discarded at first. However, I thought I'd post it anyway so you could read if you liked. Unedited. The real Interlude is archived at Skyehawke. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Dooney passes the Quaffal to Bilbrey who dodges a Bludger hit by McMallard and is zooming down the pitch…Johnston is moving to intercept…OH! Johnston takes a Bludger to the face! Where's the referee…Canadians...McMallard has a clear path to score, and it looks like Keeper Gorgon isn't going to be able to—I DON'T BELIEVE IT—GORGON BLOCKS!"<p>

Weasley punched the couch cushion, grinning. "Gorgon's brilliant—last season he saved—"

"Ten out of twelve, yes, we know, Weasley," said Draco tensely, restraining himself from beating him around the head with his cushion. Typical that Weasley would be a Cannon's fan, he internally sneered; underdogs must hum on a sympathetic chord.

"Shh," said, Potter, sitting on the edge of his seat. He always sat like that when we listened to the games—his body tense and yet his expression dazed, as though he were lost in his head.

"Chudley Cannons' fans are doing the wave in the stands…looks like someone dropped their side and got drenched. Gordon passes the Quaffal to Johnston, whose nose looks to be broken, and avoids Dooney and Punut, who were trying to slam him into the goal post. Is that…YES! BROWN HAS SEEN THE SNITCH! Smith is scrambling to catch up—OH! Brown has pulled out of the dive…but Smith keeps plummeting. What's he thinking? Brown nearly falls off his broom to dive again, and Smith has made a hard right…Yes, I can see it—the Snitch. Smith and Brown are neck and neck, Punut has sent a Bludger Smith's way and it looks like it's going to—"

"Granger!"

"Hermione!"

"Hey!"

Granger glowered at the three boys, her bushy hair poking out of the handkerchief she had tied it back with. Her face was sweating and in her arms was an enormous box. "You three can help!" she snapped.

Weasley spluttered, his arm outstretched and pointing at the wireless she had silenced. Potter looked gobsmacked that she would interrupt at a crucial moment of the game, and Draco eyed the box in her arms with suspicion. Granger had taken to house cleaning and nagged at them constantly to "pull their weight," which usually translated to unpleasant tasks he had never before done in his life—such as mopping.

She had not been pleased when they suggested a house-elf.

"We're listening to the game!" Weasley protested. Granger's brow furrowed in a most foreboding way, her handkerchief sliding down her forehead, giving her a distinctly hippogryff look.

"I gotta…" began Potter, but Granger swiveled her head, pinning him to the couch with a glare.

"You. Clean the bathroom," she ordered, and Draco breathed easier. He loathed cleaning the bathroom. It was one of the few jobs Granger would allow him to do because it in no way involved anything sharp and pointy he could pocket to attack them with at a later time. Weasley warned her of the dangers of being bludgeoned by a toilet bowl scrubber, but Granger had obviously been in a risky mood.

Potter was made to clean the kitchen.

"What am I going to do?" asked Draco. Granger's eyes gleamed.

LATER:

"Stupid cow," Draco muttered, grabbing another stack of photos from the big brown box that Granger had put on the coffee table. "It was a rhetorical question."

He had been filling the plastic sleeves to photo albums for well over an hour now, and he was getting sick of the Gryffindors' school photos. If he had to see one more photo of Weasley playing chess…

Draco stared at the picture in his hand; it was unlike any of the ones he had seen in the past hour—it didn't move. For several moments, Draco held himself very still as he watched the photograph, but when it still didn't move, he sank back against the cushions of the couch, puzzled.

He didn't know why it interested him—maybe because he had never seen a Muggle photograph up close before. He glanced down at the picture again. Sure enough, Potter was still stationary. He was still in an apron, batter splashed across his forearms, grinning at the camera and holding a plate piled with pancakes.

Draco smirked. He would have to make fun of Potter for wearing the apron…right after he got a pancake out of him.

FIN

Please review! It makes writing so much easier


End file.
